BCU TO BHM

At last Cross Country Trains finally deemed it appropriate to put an eight carriage train on the tracks for this journey when normally they have only put four on.

We had reserved seats in a carriage that when we left Brockenhurst it was nearly full. Usually, by the time we depart from Southampton Airport Parkway every seat is taken and every square foot of floor space is taken up with passengers. Today was an absolute pleasure unimpeded by any smugness or guilt about having seats when others around us had to stand, balance against the movement of the train and cope with others trying to walk between one end of the carriage and the other in hunt for a seat.

As we pulled out of Brockenhurst the revenue team of two worked their way along the carriage. A moment of very minor anxiety as she checked our tickets and passes but all was in order. I asked what time she was due to finish work?

"About six tonight. Started at eight."

"Any breaks?" I asked.

"Not official ones. The only chance we get for a proper drink and something to eat is when there is a long gap between trains we are meant to be checking. Today we just work between Brockenhurst and Southampton both ways."

At Winchester a lady got on with two girls aged about ten. One of them. Isla. was her daughter and the other, Ella, was friend coming on holiday with them somewhere near Liverpool.

Mum checked the overhead and saw display and saw that the two seats immediately behind us were reserved from Bournemouth to Wolverhampton . They were empty so she parked the two girls in them. Conveniently the seat opposite the girls was reserved for the same journey, saw it was empty and took it.

"Now Isla and Ella, these are someone else's seats so if they do come for them you are both to be polite and give them up. Don't get too much out of your bags just in case we have to move."

Between Winchester and Basingstoke the carriage settled into a rhythm of conversation, rattling crisp packets and passengers wandering back and forth along the aisle as the train, with its own rhythm as it ate up the miles.

Behind us the two girls happily settled in playing some online games, chatting about school. In between their own snatches of conversation they asked the questions that all children ask when travelling for long distances on any mode of transport.

"Are we there yet?"

"How long before we get there?"

"Who's meeting us?"

Then came the most indiscrete marmalade dropper or, as Bob Woodward would describe it, a "bacon cooler". The whole carriage heard it and reacted accordingly with complete silence.

"I need a pooh."

"For goodness sake Ella! Why didn't you go before we left this morning? Oh, never mind. Off you go. It's just through those doors...now what's the problem?"

"What do you mean you've never had to go on a train before? Isla, you'll have to go with her. I have to stay just in case these people come for their seats. Go on. off you go."

"Really Mum? In the toilet while Ella you know?"

"Yes, now off you go you two."

Heather by now had fallen asleep while reading her book. I read some of mine then played a bit of online Scrabble but gave up as the internet was a bit intermittent.

There was an announcement on the speakers that because of infrastructure problems caused by the hot weather and a delayed train ahead we would be running about half an hour late. We were reminded to make sure we claimed for any delay compensation via the Cross Country "Delay Pay" scheme. The minimum delay anyone could claim for is thirty minutes.

My mental compensation calculator kicked into action.

As we approached Reading the Mum began to get anxious just in case anyone got on who had reserved the three seats they had taken over. The girls played on oblivious to her anxieties and repeated their earlier questions.

At Reading there was a churn of passengers and the mum and the two girls were safe again. Included in the churn was a very frail and elderly lady dressed in a sari. She got herself wedged into a seat with her single suitcase and shoulder bag. Once she was settled and the rhythm of the journey got going again she retrieved a mobile phone from the depths of her shoulder bag. It looked quite new. She listened to a couple of voice messages and then started banging out messages and, presumably replies, quicker than any graduate from the Pitman school of shorthand could ever hope to achieve. Eventually the phone returned to the depths of the bag.

The next time I looked up from my book I could see she was having a lively conversation with the lady in the seat next to her.

Honestly, if you find yourself travelling alone and sitting next to someone for any length of time be brave. Make that first move and try to start a conversation. You will soon know if it is going to go anywhere and you might just, just be making the other person's day that little bit better and yours as well.

The girls behind us provided a happy background o chatter as they played away at different games on a screen. Play was interrupted by the tearing open of a bag of sweets and then further interrupted when the contents of the bag hit the floor and started rolling around on the floor.

"Isla, do be careful. You'll drop more than you and Ella can eat. No, don't try and pick them up from the floor. Just leave them."

As we approached Leamington Spa there was an announcement that the train had made up some time and we were only running fifteen minutes late. "Bugger, there goes our Delay Repay claim for this part of the trip". By the time we arrived in Coventry we were running over half an hour late. "Hurrah" the claim is on again.

Doing our best to be experienced and cool passengers we left our seats after the train had left Birmingham International Airport. We made our way to the end of the carriage to retrieve our luggage from the rack. This is another anxiety point in the journey. What if any of our luggage has been stolen or someone has taken our bags by mistake? No clean underwear, no wash kit, no socks and no laptop with all of my writing on.

Phew! They were where we left them.

In the lobby near the door there was a lady from a religious order sitting on her suitcase. A severely shaved head, a full length brown habit or cassock and open sandals. She was engrossed in her phone screen typing in messages as quickly as the lady who got on at Reading. When she had finished her messaging she looked up at me and smiled. Her phone beeped she looked back to the screen to read a message.

"Have you got a seventy something male near you. Brown jeans and a green polo shirt?"

"Yes, do you want me to try and convert him?"

"You can try but we don't think you'll get anywhere. We've tried but didn't get anywhere."

"OK, I'll leave it. Anyway the train is coming into Birmingham and I have to run to catch my connection. Bye"

The train door whooshed open, she was gone and we had arrived in Birmingham New Street nearly forty minutes late.